Missed a day. This was supposed to go up yesterday. Never mind. Better late than never.
It’s all she did. Near the end. Dusters. Cloths. Polish.
Everything had to shine. Had to sparkle. Everything.
I think she even tried to polish the cat once. Poor Misty.
Her eyes still had their shine, when she was finally confined to her bed. She still had things brought to her though. One knick-knack after the other. One thing to clean and polish after another.
Her hair had fallen out by that point. She wore a pretty flowery scarf, tied in the way she had made fun of on others so many times. She glared at me the first time she put it on and I knew I had to keep my mouth shut. I wouldn’t have said anything anyway.
She had a brilliant laugh. It was so sneaky. Like she had done something mischievous. Mind you, half the time she had.
She had an amazing amount of life. She took the world by its shoulders and shook it hard more than once. She once went to Westminster, stood outside the doors of Parliament with her placards and friends. Shouted her slogans and beliefs until they hauled her away.
She’s quite proud of that.
I smile when I remember her telling me the story. We met so late in life, too late. I would give anything to go back and know her then. Have her story be my own.
But the past cannot be changed. We are what we are and time only moves one way.
Goodbye, my wild love.